Method to Madness
by MyInnerWeirdo
Summary: AU. Ever haunted by nightmares from a past trauma, Marceline is taken to the small town, Cosmic Lake, to forget her troubles. Unfortunately, everything seems to have backfired, and now Marceline has more problems than ever. How ironic. -Eventual Bubbline- ON HIATUS
1. This is Only a Living Nightmare

**WARNING! This contains mention of child molestation and possibly a few other things if you really, ****_really_**** want to. Continue at your own risk.**

**"Vexed" is simply there for lack of a better title. I honestly cannot find a better one. To be honest, this was supposed to be just something based off of the Grand Theft Auto games...and it starts out like...this...I'm sorry. So, so sorry. Just...yeah. I made it this way because all the protagonists ever in those games have a chilling, disturbing, sad, or downright fucked up backstory and I wanted it to be like that. I'm sorry. I didn't want to. But...yeah.**

**Sorry. Enjoy...if you really can. This will be rated M forever because of this prologue.**

**Edit: Formally titled "Vexed" but I changed it because, I admit, Vexed is a terrible title for a fanfic. I am terribly sorry.  
**

**Prologue: It's Only a Living Nightmare**

Her mother combed her fingers through the frayed tousles of Marceline's hair, and chuckled halfheartedly when dried mud broke free from the black locks and fell down onto the counter. "Oh, Marceline," she said, voice quiet and soothing, and as warm as sunshine, "I don't know how you keep managing to get yourself into so much trouble." Marceline sniffed and delicately touched the cuts on her knee.

"It wasn't my fault…" the girl protested. Her face was caked in dirt and tears. "They tried to take Hambo from me." She flinched visibly when her mom took her hands away from the scraped knee and pressed a wet, warmed towel against the cut. The towel quickly turned from white to red. "When I told them no, they pushed me into the mud and…they ran away with him."

Her mother simply nodded, replying quietly, "Is that so?" She rinsed the towel thoroughly and squeezed the water out. She used the clean end to clean the dirt from Marceline's cheeks. "Well, those boys certainly need a talking to, don't they? But you really shouldn't have been out in the yard this late, Marceline. It gets dangerous at around this time; strange people come out at this time of night."

Marceline wiped her eyes, smearing the mud and dirt on her cheeks. She nodded. Her mother sighed and began to wash Marceline's cheeks with another dampened towel.

"Still, Ricardio could stand to teach those boys a few lessons about not ganging up on little girls…" her mother grumbled.

The boys from the apartment right above theirs; for a reason she couldn't understand, they really hated Marceline. They hated her teddy bear, Hambo, even more. Constantly, they berated both her and her toy, calling them names like "ugly" and "filth" and some other words Marceline was sure she was not allowed to repeat. Today, they told her they were gonna rip Hambo up and hide his pieces from her so she couldn't ever find him or put him back together. Her lip quivered, and she furiously wiped away the tears spilling down her cheeks.

"It's gonna be okay, Marcie." Her mom kissed her forehead in a comforting gesture, "We'll get Hambo back. But I want you to promise me that you won't play in the yard after seven anymore." Her mom gave her a stern look. "To be frank, I don't want you out of this apartment at all after seven o'clock. There are people are there who might want to take you away, and I don't want that to happen. So promise me you won't, okay?"

Marceline nodded, looking just slightly defeated. She hadn't expected her mom to be cross with her as well. "I promise I won't, Mommy."

Her mom smiled sweetly, and then tousled her hair. More dried mud flakes cascaded down, and this time she laughed with much more enthusiasm. Marceline managed to smile through her tears as well, and her mom smiled hugely, "Let's get that nast out of your hair, then I'll go get Hambo for you."

"Okay, Mommy!"

It didn't take very long for the shower to be over with. The showerhead was detachable and had loads of different settings, allowing her mother to scrub the mud out of her hair with relative ease. It got a little less easy when her mom decided to clean out her scrapped knee a bit more using some soap and hot water. "I'm so sorry, Marcie," she said, "I don't want this to get infected. It'll hurt a lot worse if it does." It stung _badly_,but it didn't last for long, and she didn't cry at all—that was a total accomplishment to her.

When Marceline was all dry and dressed in her pajamas for the night, her mother allowed her to sit in the living room to watch cartoons. It was well past her bedtime, at least by thirty minutes, but her mom was allowing it until she returned with Hambo.

"Now remember what I said, sweetheart," her mother said, her voice laced with warning. "No leaving the apartment no matter what, all right?"

"Okay, Mommy." Marceline nearly groaned. She was five; she didn't need to be treated like she was a child.

"I'm off, then. Love you baby. Be good."

"Love you too, Mom!"

The door snapped shut. Marceline focused on the cartoons that danced on the television screen. She stayed like that for a while before becoming bored and deciding to do something else. For a little while she poked at the large band-aid her mom had placed over her scrape and picking at its corners idly as she started staring at the ceiling.

A loud fanfare played over the television speakers. Marceline jumped nearly a foot into the air, startled by the abruptness of it. She whipped her head around and looked at the screen. It was an "Emergency Report". They had been having a lot of those lately. Marceline didn't know what any of them meant, but they all talked about a single man she believed was called Jason-something. She couldn't remember his last name. The kind looking newsman reminded her when he first started speaking.

"_Notorious sex offender still at large. Name Jason McCreary, age twenty-four with brown eyes and long dark hair. He was last seen wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. Anyone with information on this man is urged to alert authorities immediately. This man is highly dangerous. It is advised to watch your children closely and keep them indoors at all times until this man is caught. Have a safe night."_

This had happened every night for the past week now. Maybe longer than that, but Marceline hadn't exactly been paying attention. All she knew is that the first time she saw this she had been watching cartoons with her mom. It interrupted the show much like it did just now. That was when her mom really started to enforce the "never leave the apartment alone or late at night" rule. Since then, she always seemed so genuinely worried or even a little angry whenever she didn't know exactly where Marceline was.

Frankly, her new behavior made no sense to Marceline at her young age. She did not know what "sex offender" meant. Whenever she would ask, her mom would say something along the lines of "Someone who does really bad things to other people." But that was her mother's explanation to a lot of things Marceline had seen on the news channel. They lived in the City of Ooo, so a lot of what she saw on the news was "bad people who did bad things".

Eventually, after a long while of laying there and staring at nothing and watching mindless cartoons, Marceline finally noticed her mother was not back yet. Marceline sat up on the couch and looked at the digital clock that was resting on the coffee table. It read nine-thirty.

Her mother had left nearly an hour ago. Marceline barely had any concept of time, but it shouldn't have taken that long for Hambo's rescue mission to be completed. Maybe she had gotten into a long conversation with the Ricardio man, or maybe the boys were true to their word and had ripped up Hambo and scattered his pieces, forcing her mom to search for his missing parts.

Marceline momentarily debated walking up to Ricardio's apartment to help her look. She quickly decided not to because her mother had told her to stay here. And disobeying mother's orders after already doing so once before was never a good idea. But even as the looming danger of a spanking and grounding lingered in her thought, she couldn't help but feel anxious.

_Mommy never takes this long. Ever._

And that was that. Marceline climbed down from the couch and made a beeline for the front door. She reached up high to grab the doorknob. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, then nervously and slowly walked outside the apartment. It felt awful this time around to disobey her mom, especially since she was now doing it deliberately.

The door slammed shut behind her. Startled out of her wits, Marceline spun around and saw a giant thing standing there with its hand against the door. It wasn't an 'it' though. It was a man. He was dressed in a suit and tie, wearing a pair of sunglasses. Marceline's first thought was of how ridiculous sunglasses-indoors looked.

The man towered over her. "There's been an accident," he said, "Your father has sent me to get you and your mother and bring you over to his house. Your mom is waiting for you in the car."

Marceline's eyes went round. Her father was an important man, mom would always say, and it was because of him that they had this nice apartment in a remotely nice part of town. They lived there because it was far too dangerous for Marceline and her mom to live with him on the other side of town. For them to have to go to his house, something very, very bad must have happened.

"Does Mommy have Hambo with her?" Marceline immediately asked. First things first. She didn't want to leave without her beloved doll.

The man paused, as if confused, then uttered gruffly, "Sure, kid. Let's go." He offered her his hand, and she took it. Ussually, her mom would have nearly chewed her head off for talking to and going places with a total stranger, but this man said he knew her dad. Her father was nearly notorious for having a lot of henchman to do a lot of his dirty work for him. With that in mind, Marceline figured that this would be a fair exception to her mother's rules. And besides, apparently her mom had already met this man, since she was now waiting for them down in his car.

It was the yard just behind the apartment complex. The yard had a much more sinister feeling at night than during the day. Marceline quivered and held the man's hand tighter. His hands were rough and sticky and warm, and being near him was starting to make her feel sick, but right now he was the only comfort she had so she had to make do.

The man opened the car door open for her, and she crawled into the back seat. Marceline was able to buckle herself in just as the man had seated himself in the driver's seat. She looked up and saw her mom sitting in the front passenger seat. Her hand was hung low, and in the dark Marceline could barely see her face. She opened her mouth to ask if she could see Hambo or to ask about why they had to go to dad's house, but instead she found herself gagging on the most disgusting smell ever. It was like rotten tuna mixed with skunk juice.

"Sorry for the stink, lil' Marcie," the man said as he started up the car, "I haven't really cleaned it out lately."

Marceline felt very unnerved when he said that. She wasn't sure why. It was the way he said it. He seemed too happy. The moonlight poured into the cracked windshield and showed the man's face. He was grinning wickedly. Marceline turned to her mom, reaching to grab her arm. "Mommy, can I please have Hambo now?"

Her mother didn't answer. Marceline asked again, confused, and was met again by the same response, nothing. Her efforts to get an answer out of the seemingly sleeping woman earned her a cruel laugh from the man as he drove down the road. The sound of his cackling filled her gut with deep despair, and suddenly she realized that they were going in the exact opposite direction of her father's house.

"Um…Mister, where are we going?"

He only laughed some more. It was a series of giggles this time, as if he knew some kind of secret. The despair knotted itself deeper in her stomach. She looked back to her mom, leaning forward more to shake her, "Mom! Mom, who is this man? Where are we going? Where's Dad? MOM!"

Her mom slumped over to the side, and her face slide into the moonlight. Her eyes weren't there, they were just empty sockets and her face was covered in red. Weird looking bugs were crawling all over her face from out of her mouth and eyes. They looked like worms. Marceline gasped and lunged backwards, her back slamming against the seat, a shrill scream dying in her throat.

"Mom!" she shouted, and tears began to fall down her cheeks, "Mom, what's wrong? Why are you bleeding?! Mister, what happened to her?"

"An accident," he responded simply. He chuckled. The car slowly came to a stop at the side of some kind of endless road. Marceline looked through the window. When on earth did they get here? The man twisted himself in the seat so he could look at Marceline fully. He gave her a toothy grin, the kind that made her heart sink.

"Wh...where's Hambo?" Marceline asked. A hard lump had formed in her throat, her voice quiet and shaky.

The man didn't answer her question. Instead, he asked his own. "I didn't ever introduce myself to you, did I, lil' Marcie?"

Her voice no longer worked. Swallowing hard, she shook her head no at him. His grin grew impossibly wider. He reached back and starting caressing Marceline's cheek. She snapped herself back, away from him. His hand grabbed her by the jaw, and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were filling up with fresh tears. His hand felt like alligator skin, and now she could see that his hands were stained red with blood.

"Well, sweetie pie, my name is Jason McCreary. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you."

Marceline instantly started to hyperventilate. Jason's eyes turned red like blood, and seemed to bore deep into her soul.

"I guess maybe you should have listened to your mom. You should have stayed in your apartment, eh, kiddo?" He laughed at her, cruelly. Marceline wondered, frantically, if her father actually knew Jason. It was the last thought she had before his hand moved to cover her eyes. The world was black for what felt like hours, until she woke up screaming.

**(Method to Madness)**

The sound of her own scream was what actually woke her up. Sweating and gasping ragged puffs of air, fifteen-year-old Marceline sat up in her bed. She held her blankets close to her chest and squeezed them tight like a security blanket, and she hunched over a bit to try to catch her breath. A few times, she nearly vomited all over her bed because of how sick the nightmare had made her, but she managed to keep whatever was in her stomach down.

Her bedroom door opened suddenly, and the motion of it startled her. Marceline nearly screamed again before she saw that it was only Simon holding a spatula. Much like herself, he looked absolutely terrified. He ran over to her and sat down next to her bed. "Marceline, sweetheart, are you all right? I heard you scream. Did something happen?" His questions came out in a mad rush. After a few seconds, he calmed down and examined her face. "Was it another nightmare?"

Marceline held her head and nodded numbly without saying a word. She heard Simon sigh, and a pair of arms encircled her. Simon held her for a few seconds before squeezing her gently and releasing her. "Why don't you come down and have some breakfast? I'm preparing something really special for you." He smiled at her sweetly. Marceline couldn't help but smile back.

"All right, Simon," she said, as quietly as she could because she just couldn't trust her voice right now, "Can I get dressed?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Sorry, Marceline, I'll be going now. See you at breakfast." He left and shut the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, something hitched in Marceline's chest and she began to sob uncontrollably. She leaned over and hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed, cried, and just bawled near-hysterically for a long while. Eventually, her sobs died down and her tears stopped flowing.

Ten years. It had been ten whole years, and these nightmares _still_ persisted. Usually, it was only two or three times a month. Now it was happening almost every night. She rubbed her temples slowly in a circular motion, groaning tiredly. At least the nightmare had been much less gruesome this time.

Marceline spent a few more minutes mentally preparing herself before sliding out of bed and changing into her day clothes. She had to dig a shirt and jeans out of some unopened boxes. They had only just moved into this house yesterday and hadn't had the chance to unpack properly before deciding to pass out in their beds for the night. She left her room and sluggishly made her way downstairs and into the kitchen.

Simon was standing in front of the stove. He hadn't changed into his daytime clothes yet, and he seemed to be at a loss.

"What's up, Simon?" she asked while stifling a yawn.

Simon responded with a quiet harrumph, "We don't have any milk."

"Yeah, so? Why do we need it?"

"Well, I wanted to make you some strawberry pancakes to make you feel better, because you've been having your nightmares a lot lately, you know? But the milk we did have went bad."

"I told you it was a bad idea to take the milk with us on a two day trip without a cooler." Marceline smiled though. Strawberry pancakes sounded really good right now.

Simon shushed her, "Yeah, yeah, I know you did. That isn't the point. Could you stop by the store and buy some buttermilk? I'd go myself but I'm not dressed and I really need to mind this stove. It looks…rickety."

"Sure thing, Simon." Marceline examined the stove for herself. It looked just fine to her, but she decided not to question her godfather.

"Oh, and pick up some extra strawberries while you're there. That way we can make giant stacks of strawberry pancakes!"

Marceline laughed weakly. What a silly old man, she thought. He was a really good guy, though. Whenever her dad was unable to be there, which was all the time, Simon would be there for her in his place. But recently he had been changing. Marceline wasn't entirely sure how, but she could see it. He seemed to be neglecting to shave, and his graying beard had grown thick and long, down to his chest. She hadn't told him because for a while she thought he had meant for it to do that, and she thought it made him look kind of cool. Unfortunately, he also seemed to be forgetting to shower. That was the real problem.

Oh well, Marceline could stand to remind him a few times a week that his stink was getting a bit too strong. He was the one that had to deal with her screaming every night because of a silly old nightmare, so she thought that it was fair enough.

"Here's the money to buy the stuff. Hurry back!" He handed her fifteen dollars. Marceline smiled at him, said thank you, and pocketed the money before heading to the door. She heard him say something about 'demons possessing the stove' before she shut the door behind her. Marceline's face contorted a bit in confusion, but she shrugged it off started walking towards the general store.

**May I have some good critique on this? I'd love to know if the flow's any good or not. Let me know if I should continue and such, please.**


	2. Welcome to Cosmic Lake

**Hi guys~So this had more of a delay than usual, cuz my computer borked and it had to be fixed. Luckily, it originally would have taken three months to fix, but thanks to my dad, it was a little more than a week. Lucky me, huh? Haha, enjoy.**

Chapter 1: Welcome to Cosmic Lake

_December 4th, 1995…Cosmic Lake, Population 53_

When she had exited the house, images of her nightmare loomed dangerously in the back of her mind, threatening to take hold of her again at any moment. Marceline rubbed her eyes as tears started to sting them again, a growling sigh rumbling in her throat and through her nostrils. If there was one thing she hated more than her nightmares, it was crying over them. It always made her feel so weak and stupid in the end. It never made her feel better, like everyone had told her it would.

So when she could, when it wasn't too overwhelming, she would keep it all inside.

Eventually the urge to cry subsided, and Marceline looked up from her feet to survey her new home. It was a small town; pathetically small. Looking from right to left from where she stood now at the end of the driveway, she could very easily see where the town started and where it ended. She could see most of the buildings as well. How had Simon even known about this place? It's so small! Marceline twirled a few strands of her hair between her fingers and looked around for a few seconds more.

On the other side of the town was some kind of mobile hot dog stand. It caked with rust and grime, and even from her current vantage point she could see pieces of the metal slowly stripping itself away from the vehicle. It probably hasn't had anyone working the kitchen for quite some time. It was disappointing. Marceline kind of liked the mobile restaurants that went around in the City of Ooo, and seeing the food truck there was a nice contrast to the dull, washed-up old houses.

Seriously, the houses resembled shacks that had the incredible fortune of being made of brick. That mobile hotdog stand was the only thing that looked remotely modern around here besides the three trailers at the far end of the town.

Behind what buildings she could see, there were endless heaves of hills and trees, all as green as green could ever be. It was very refreshing to look at; for the last two days she'd been crammed in a car stuffed with boxes, guitars and rotten milk, and most of the time they had been driving past bland sceneries, made even more bland with the storm clouds that had constantly been looming over their heads. It rained harshly when they arrived last night, but Marceline had been too tired to care.

She couldn't see the grocery store anywhere. Walking into the middle of town—it didn't take but less than thirty seconds to get there—Marceline was able to see the entire town. Nothing that looked like it would sell milk or strawberries, or anything for that matter. She grunted and stuffed her fists into her pockets. What kind of town didn't have at least one store?

"Hello, there!"

Marceline nearly jumped out of her skin. A sharp cry shot from her throat as she whirled around, staggering to keep her balance. Instinctively her hand reached for her hip, where a knife usually hung from her belt, but her fingers only touched the fabric of her jeans, prompting a miniature heart attack that quickly dulled to nothingness when she saw a girl standing there. Marceline, reminded that she was no longer in the big city but a painfully small community, allowed her hand to fall back down.

"Uh…hi."

The girl couldn't have been more than fourteen. Her skin was a pale pink and her hair was auburn. It reached turn to her back and curled neatly around her face, which was dotted with several freckles that were barely darker than her skin tone. Her dress, a pretty sundress, was dark pink and reached down a bit passed her knees. Something went 'thump' in Marceline's chest, and left her speechless after the greeting had just barely escaped her lips.

What a strange, foreign feeling it was; the one forming in the pit of her stomach, making it warm and heavy like she had eaten hot stone—and lived.

There was a startled look on the girl's face, and she looked at Marceline with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "Oh! I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. I was calling out to you, but you didn't seem to hear me."

"Oh. Yeah." Marceline smiled awkwardly, "I guess I was lost in my thoughts. So, what do you need?"

The girl smiled back. "I just wanted to say hi and welcome you to the neighborhood. You're the new girl here, aren't you? I saw you arrive here last night with your grandfather, I believe."

"He's not my grandfather," Marceline retorted instantly. A lot of people confused Simon for her grandfather when in reality he was her godfather. She didn't blame them, though. He looked pretty old and his massive beard wasn't doing anything to help deter that. Still, it didn't make it any less annoying when people made that mistake. "He's my guardian, and he's barely out of his thirties."

The girl seemed surprised. Rightfully so, Marceline thought. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just, well, he looks—"

"I know. It's all right. Just gets tiring having to correct people sometimes."

The girl nodded. She smiled and shifted a bit on her feet. "My name is Bonnibel Wissenschaft, I live here with my uncle, Peppy." she said and stuck out her hand. Marceline was hesitant, but eventually reached out to shake Bonnibel's hand. The contact was brief, a single up-and-down jerk, but it was good enough.

"Hey. Name's Marceline. Marceline Abadeer."

"That's a really pretty name." Bonnibel said. Marceline blushed a bit, and couldn't help the dopey grin that crept onto her face. Bonnibel's cheeks turned red as well, and she glanced away from Marceline's gaze. "So, you were looking for something earlier, huh? Can I be of any assistance?"

"Uhm..." Marceline paused and thought about it. She usually didn't accept help from anyone. Not even Simon, except for rare occasions. But this time, she did ask. Just this once. "Do you by any chance know where the grocery store is?"

"Oh, yes, I do. But it's actually a little far from here. About a quarter of a mile that way." She pointed to one of the roads that connected Cosmic Lake to the rest of the road. The road dipped down a hill and fell out of sight.

"Seriously," Marceline grunted, "A quarter mile? It's that far?"

"A quarter mile is only a thousand-three-hundred-and-twenty feet. It's not that far." Bonnibel gave her a look, "Would you like for me to accompany you?"

From Marceline's point of view, this was a great offer. Even though she was a loner most of the time, she also hated being alone. As oxymoron-ish as that was. Sometimes she just really wanted a friend to be alone with. Someone to talk with about nothing. Back in the city, that was something she never really got. If not for Simon, she would have been alone all the time.

Marceline shrugged. "Sure. If it's not too far out of your way."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Bonnibel waved her hand dismissively, "It's early, and I have nothing really to do today anyway. Come on, let's get going."

What was once a blue sky was now grey once again, and the air smelled of rain. There wasn't much to talk about as the girls made their way to the store. Marceline gripped the bills in her pocket tightly, eyes forward, when she heard the girl say something.

"So what brings you to a boring place like Cosmic Lake, Marceline?"

The question struck her as odd. She wasn't sure how, it just did.

"It's complicated," she said, chest deflating, "I, uh, got into some trouble back in the City of Ooo. Nothing involving the law or anything. Just, well, it wasn't really safe there and Simon, my godfather, didn't want me to stay there anymore. So he brought me here."

Bonnibel seemed a bit curious at all of the things Marceline was leaving out. She didn't try to dig deeper though, and Marceline was thankful. She hadn't wanted to talk about it anyway. Instead, Bonnibel gave her a warm smile, "Well, it's pretty safe here! Mostly because hardly anyone's known about it since the late 30s. That's why my dad sent me here—I come from Prismo."

"Prismo?" Marceline's face contorted in confusion, "But that place…it's like paradise there, isn't it?"

"Compared to Ooo City, yes. But there are things wrong with it. He mostly didn't like me conversing with the…erm, the 'homosexuals'."

"That's pretty messed up."

"I agree, but who am I to question what my father believes is right or wrong? I'm still just a minor."

Marceline snorted, but said nothing.

The store came into view. It was small, barely anything above just a pit stop, but still larger than what Marceline had expected. Above the double doors was a sign with black lettering:

**_The Apple Tree, Grocery Outlet_**

**_All fresh, all week! What we don't sell gets baked into pies each Saturday!_**

"It's really nice, isn't it? Mrs. Trunks, the lady who owns the store, grows most of the produce she sells." Bonnibel smiled hugely and they entered the store. The air on the inside was much warmer than on the outside, and Marceline was thankful for that. She had forgotten her jacket before she left the house, and although most of the time she could stand the cold, this was one of those rare moments where she could not.

It wasn't much of a grocery store, really. More of a convenience shop, but with loads of healthier stuff. There was a counter and behind that counter, an opened door. Behind that door was a darkened room, but not much else. Fruit stands were pushed up against every wall, each holding a different type of fruit. Blueberries, peaches, cherries, all sorts of stuff. Above everything else, though, there were apples.

There were _a lot_ of apples. They were hanging from nets tied to the ceiling, in large wooden buckets sitting in the corner; hell, quite a few of them were piled up on the front counter, and one was even balancing on top of the cash register. If Marceline didn't love apples as much as she loved strawberries, such a sight like this would have frightened her.

No strawberries though; none that she could see. No milk either; there didn't appear to be any kind of refrigeration units that would hold any milk or any kind of beverage. Odd. What kind of grocery store was this?

An old woman appeared from the darkened doorway. Her hair was grey and her face was wrinkled, as was the common look for elderly folk. The dress she wore was a light green that Marceline wouldn't have found appealing otherwise, but it really suited this old lady. Her eyes were also a dark shade of green. However, they were paling.

"Why, hello there, Miss Bonnie!" said the old woman, excitedly, "Who's this lovely young woman you've brought with you today?"

"This is Marceline. She moved in last night with her godfather. I was just accompanying her on the trip here so she wouldn't get lost."

Marceline tried to smile at that. Her, get lost? Please. Back in the City of Ooo, she could easily navigate from one side of the city to the other without a map and without getting lost. At a brisk pace, it would take her nothing short of two and a half hours.

The old woman smiled. "Oh, well that was certainly very neighborly of you. It is a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Marceline. I'm Mrs. Harriet Trunks." Marceline nodded, smiling back. She had an odd, slow way of speaking. It didn't bother her, it was just noticeable. "What brings you to my store so early in the morning?"

"I need to pick up some stuff to make breakfast," Marceline replied quickly, "I need some strawberries and milk. But," she looked around the store again, "it doesn't look like you have any of those."

"Oh, nonsense! I keep the milk refrigerated in the back, and I just picked a fresh batch of strawberries yesterday. Why, they're right over—oh! Oh, silly me. No wonder you couldn't find them!" Mrs. Trunks laughed heartily at herself, "I've forgotten to put them out on display! Excuse me while I go pick up the items for you." The old woman turned and went back into the darkened room.

Her mouth pressing into a thin line, Marceline turned and whispered to Bonnibel, "She'd remind me of my grandma, if I could remember her."

That earned a small smirk from the younger girl. Seeing the tiny smile made Marceline's heart flutter a bit and she smiled as well. Then, unable to make anything of this odd feeling, or what to do with it, Marceline turned away.

She was surprised out of the unpleasantly pleasant feeling at the aggravating sensation of someone's hand making direct contact with her ass. With a loud gasp, she spun and instinctively took a swipe at the offender. A pale-skinned boy standing just behind her dodged the attack and smirked slyly.

"So, _you're_ the new girl." His voice was slick and ignited something in Marceline's gut that made her feel sick and angry at the same time. "Hmm. I've seen better looking girls. So, what brings you to this small strip of hell? You get in trouble like the rest of us?"

Marceline growled. The boy just laughed. He looked barely older than she was. His hair was ridiculous; like, half Mohawk, half mullet, and totally bleached white. His eyes had a nasty gleam to them, like a sort of shine that was sinister. She had seen this kind of kid before. This type of guy was one of the reasons her father had sent her to this shithole in the first place.

Great.

"Not telling, huh? It's cool." He reached over to a rack and plucked a single apple from one of the shelves. "I'll just purchase this fine piece of fruit and be on my way." The smug grin he wore as he continued talking was driving her insane, and he had only been talking for fifteen seconds. New record.

The guy walked over to the counter as Mrs. Trunks stepped back out, small box of strawberries and a carton of milk in hand. He showed her the apple and placed some bills down on the counter. "Keep the change, lady." He bit off a huge chunk of apple as he left. Marceline watched him go, glaring until he was completely out of her sight. She turned to Bonnibel.

"Who was he?!"

Bonnibel sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, that was Ash. He's been nothing but a nuisance since he got here, but he acts so innocent when the adults are around that no one really believes me when I tell them just who stuffed a bunch of rags in their plumbing."

Mrs. Trunks looked at the bills and gave a happy cry, "Oh, my! What a kind, generous young man!" She smiled hugely as she placed the money in the cash register. "Miss Marceline, I have your produce all set for you whenever you're ready to purchase."

Sighing heavily, Marceline reached into her pocket for the money. As she grasped for it, her fingers touched nothing but the fabric lining in the inside of her pocket. Startled, she checked her other pocket. Nothing. "What in the hell…?"

"Is everything all right, Marceline?" Bonnibel looked at her with a worried crease in her brow.

"It's gone!"

"What's gone?"

"My money! All fifteen dollars, they're fucking gone!"

Her voice echoed in the empty store. Mrs. Trunks gave Marceline a look of disapproval, "Young ladies shouldn't use that kind of language, Miss Marceline, especially not in my store!"

Had Marceline not been so angry, her response would have been more apologetic, the way Simon had often told her to be. But the money, the money that up until about five minutes ago had been crumpled up in the center of her fisted hand before being stuffed into her pocket, had practically vanished into thin air. Unless her jean pocket was a portal to Narnia, Marceline was calling bullshit.

"I don't care about the language I speak, old lady. I can't pay for that without my money!"

With a small grimace, Mrs. Trunks frowned and picked up the produce. "Well, I'm sorry that you lost your money, but it looks like you're right; you can't pay for this. But after you've learned some manners, you may come back and purchase these items once you have the proper payment." And she went back to the backroom. She didn't come back out.

Feeling crestfallen, Marceline left the store. Bonnibel followed shortly after.

Bonnibel gave a small chuckle. Marceline almost turned to glare. "I'm not sure if you noticed, Marceline, but that isn't how you get on Mrs. Trunks good side."

"I don't care. I lost Simon's money!" Marceline groaned, "We needed that stuff for our breakfast. Man, strawberry pancakes sounded super good too."

"Maybe you dropped the money."

"I wouldn't drop that much cash."

"What else could have happened to it?"

Marceline opened her mouth, only to release a small, confused "Uhh—!" before a sudden thought popped into her mind.

That boy, Ash.

"Bonnibel," she asked, hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Did you happen to see how much money that Ash guy spent on his apple?"

It took a moment of thinking, but as luck would have it, Bonnibel did happen to be so observant as to see and to memorize the exact amount of cash the Ash dude had used.

"About fifteen dollars. Why?" After a quick second, she added with a breath of realization, "Ooh…"

Marceline fumed. _That bastard!_ She didn't know how he did it, but he managed to swipe her money out of her pocket. And, to add insult to injury, he smacked her in the ass after he had done it. She felt like punching something, but all around her was just endless expanse of air and pleasantness. Of course, Bonnibel was standing right there, but Marceline didn't want to hit her. She was too pretty.

"That asshole…mother fucking…pickpocket! He must have taken it while I was distracted!"

"That _is_ the best time to steal from someone…" Bonnibel mused, stroking her chin thoughtfully. Marceline ignored the statement, sarcastic or otherwise, and focused on her own problems.

"And now I can't have pancakes…damn it."

Bonnibel patted her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. "Don't be angry. You can have those awesome strawberry pancakes some other time! Let's just head back. I'm sure my Uncle Peppy is wondering where I am by now."

Grumbling, Marceline agreed. It would do no good throwing a fit over the lost money now. It had already been spent, and the hold hag Mrs. Trunks was mad enough at her already. She didn't want to take all that money from her, anyway. But what was she to tell Simon?

They made it back into town as the first few raindrops started falling from the sky. Bonnibel walked Marceline to her front door, bid her farewell with a friendly "Hope to see you again!" and went back to her own home. Marceline watched her until the younger girl was inside the house before entering her own.

Simon was waiting for her. He was sitting on a box that was labeled "Fragile! Wine Glasses" with a very angry/contemplative expression practically frozen on his face. When he saw her, he leapt up suddenly, arms spread wide, making Marceline jump in surprise.

"Marceline! There you are! Where have you been?"

Calming down, Marceline responded as quickly as she could, "The store was a bit far from here. I had to walk half a mile here and back."

"Oh. Well, where's the stuff?"

She scoffed, her surprised expression turning sour, "Some asshole stole the money and got away with it. I couldn't buy the milk or the strawberries."

Simon was silent for a moment. Marceline half expected him to scold her for not being more careful with the money he had given her. But then he said, "Oh well. I guess we'll just go to Peppy's house for breakfast."

Marceline blinked. "What? Peppy?" Bonnibel's uncle?

He nodded, "Yeah, yeah! He's got strawberries and buttermilk there, it'll be great! Me and him go way back. Like. Far back. I'm sure he won't mind us going over there for a quick bite to eat. It'll be like old times!

"Wait a second. If you guys are such good friends, why couldn't we have asked him for the stuff to make breakfast? Simon? Simon!"

Simon wasn't hearing her. "Oh, he's got the cutest little niece. At least, I think she's little. Last time I saw her she was a baby. Actually, she might not even be his actual niece. They might just have that sort of relationship, you know? Like father and daughter, but different. Uncle and niece, really."

"I just walked a quarter mile, got robbed and groped by same asshole, then walked another quarter mile! And we could have just gone next door the entire time? Are you hearing me old man? A DUDE SMACKED MY ASS." Her words continued to fall on deaf ears. Simon took her by the hand, holding her hand much like he did when she was younger.

"Come on, sweetie, let's go pay Uncle Peppy a visit! You'll just love his niece. I can tell you two will make the best of friends!"

Marceline decided it was best to just go with it at this point. Obviously there was no getting to this man. Besides, she was happy; it turned out she would be getting her awesome strawberry pancakes after all, even after all that grief. And, deep down in her gut, so far deep that even she didn't know it was there, she was happy and yearning to see Bonnibel again.

So everything turned out to be fine after all.

**Ain't Marceline's life just great? Please review, and leave some critique if you would be so kind and able. I would really love it! Thank you ever so much!.**


	3. Break-In

**Hello, again! Sorry this story's taking so long. School, you know? Yeesh.**

**Anyway, if you see any mistakes, please let me know. I wrote a good majority of this chapter just today. I am very tired, as well X3 I've cleaned up my use of language in this chapter. I don't believe there's any f-bombs in here or anything. Just 'damn' and 'crap' and minor stuff like that. Swearing's a part of the real world, so I'm not giving up everything XD I realize though that in the previous chapter I had gone a bit overboard. My apologies.  
**

**If this chapter seems to go a bit too fast, let me know. I'll edit it so the pace flows better. Thank you.  
**

Chapter 2: Break-In

_December 8th, 1995_

_"You cannot grasp the true form of Giygas' attack!"_

A powerful beam of pink light flashed on the television screen, followed closely behind by a sharp burst of static. Marceline flinched, sitting upright in her chair and clutching the controller tight as she watched her entire party's health, after a long and treacherous fight, finally dwindle down to zero. Surprise quickly gave way to frustration though, as this had been the fifth time she had failed to destroy this final boss, and she tossed the controller at the ground.

_Geez_. She wasn't very good at these types of games.

"Stupid fetus ghost." She bent down and took her soda from the ground and chugged the remaining liquid from the can. It was the fifth can tonight. She tossed the cylindrical piece of aluminum aside. "One more try…then sleep," the empty promise came involuntarily, as if there was someone around to hear it.

The clock read '3:38am'. She was dreadfully tired, but she didn't want to go to sleep yet. The nightmares were coming too frequently now, and Marceline could just barely handle it anymore. It had been three days (four, since midnight), and they had still neglected to unpack the boxes yet, but Marceline had dug out her Super Nintendo and all the games that came with it. For the first few hours, she had powered through _Super Mario Bros. _and _Donkey Kong Country._ Relatively easy games for her to complete, and she was pretty much a pro at them by now.

So she moved on. Now, for the past hour, she had been trying to finally beat her newest game, but her long in-waiting victory was prolonged by her inability to actually prepare for these final battles. It was easier to get things done when you didn't have to prepare for it.

Thirty minutes later, the screen flashed and once more the life essence of her team members hit zero in an instant. She growled loudly and chucked the controller at the ground. "Screw this! Where's _Doom_, I'll just play that instead." Her voice boomed in the silent room, though she spoke in a low tone. The game ejected from the port with a loud 'pop!' and she tossed the cartridge aside and reached for her game.

She jumped as a loud '_CRASH_!' like a bunch of plates shattering on the ground, reverberated into her bedroom from somewhere down in the kitchen. Her fingers had barely brushed underneath the plastic cartridge, and when she flinched at the noise, her hand shot up and sent the game flying across the room and sliding beneath her bed, rolling and clattering.

"Ah…geez." Marceline yawned. She stood up, scrubbing her hand down her face. Her first thought was that the sound had come from Simon; it was common for him to be up this early just for food. And since his apparent sickness (as diagnosed by Bonnibel and Uncle Peppy—swell guy, a little on the short side) had really kicked in, he had been a lot clumsier. She thought going down to check on him was a bad idea, but then thought he would need help picking up the shattered glass. After all, he was slowly going insane and wouldn't think to use a dustpan.

The door pushed open slowly and she sluggishly shifted downstairs. Disoriented from her lack of sleep, she didn't think twice about calling out, "Simon, s'at you? You need help?" She turned into the kitchen and froze.

It wasn't Simon making all that noise down here, but three men clad in black from head to toe. They were rummaging through all the unpacked boxes, looking for easy loot. Around their feet was shattered glass from the fine china that used to belong to her mother, along with wine glasses and mugs, crunching beneath heavy boots as the men continued raiding the kitchen. One of the men had tore open a box labeled 'books', and had been frantically searching through it when Marceline entered the room, and suddenly their attention was on her.

"Oh…crap," she murmured, and one man, the hugest out of all of them, bellowed loudly:

"_GRAB HER_!"

She didn't give them the chance. Fully awake now, Marceline ran back upstairs. It was the first thing she thought to do. She dove into her room and slammed the door behind her and began looking for something to defend herself with.

There was hardly anything. Most of her possessions were still in boxes downstairs. But there was an old guitar standing up against the wall, too large to be packed away and with no case to go in. It was beat up, damn near ancient, and looked about to crumble. It was also a gift from her father, many years ago. But it would have to do. She grabbed it, holding it up over her shoulder like a club.

Her door swung open, violently slamming against the wall as two of the three men came barreling inside. Marceline yelped and swung the guitar; it connected with the shorter man's head, a loud 'CRACK' as the neck of the guitar snapped at the force, sending him tumbling into the wall and knocking him out cold. The second man tackled her, his fingers gripping hard at her neck as they slammed onto the ground. The now very useless remnants of her guitar were knocked from her hands and slid across the floor.

An arm was pressed tight onto her throat, keeping her still and barely breathing as the large man growled at her, "You better not scream, girlie."

Through his mask, she could smell his breath. Hot, oniony, and rotten meat, it was stomach churning. Marceline gagged and gasped for breath, trying to turn away. The arm pressed deeper, his pointed elbow digging into her throat. If she had ever planned on screaming, she wouldn't have been able to do it anyway.

Thudding footsteps were almost clouded in her eardrums as the third man stepped into her room. He had a book in his hand that seemed familiar to Marceline, but she couldn't focus enough on it to recognize what it was. The elbow in her neck was distracted her far too much.

The third man spoke, his voice a familiar squeeze of fear on her heart. "It would have been better if you'd have just stayed up here. No trouble at all." He started flipping through the book as he spoke. "Oh well. I suppose you would have figured us out at some point anyway," he chuckled. Looking up from the book, he waved his free hand at the large man pinning her down, "Knock her out, would you? We got what we need."

The pressure eased from her throat, and Marceline gasped huge gulps of hair as the arm was removed from her throat. It was short-lived, however, as the arm cocked back, hand balled into a fist, and slammed into the side of her head. She saw stars for a few seconds, and passed out.

She was woken by someone violently shaking her. Groggily, her head lolled from side to side as she tried to gather herself. In the distance, she could hear sirens wailing blearily. She could see lights, red and blue, flashing everywhere. Marceline felt herself being lifted up, a warm wetness dripping down her face.

_"Marceline! Marcie, wake up, sweetie! Please!"_

"Mmm…" Marceline groaned, blinking, "Simon?"

He was kneeling right in front of her, panicked, one arm on her cheek and the other against the small of her back, holding her up. He spoke, but his words seemed almost silent. Muffled, like he was speaking through the wall. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you? I've called the police. They're looking for the guys now."

"Police? Why'd you…?" She couldn't understand why, her mind too foggy to remember anything.

The room became clearer; pale grey of predawn light was starting to seep through the window, but not nearly bright enough to outshine the flashing lights of the police cruisers. Her head ached. She leaned back, holding her head.

"Are you all right, Marceline?" Simon asked. He touched the blood gushing down her face.

Marceline shook her head, pulling away from his touch. "Fine…'m fine…" she mumbled and tried to stand up. Her knees were wobbly, and when she walked she got as far as her bed before having to sit down on the mattress. It squeaked loudly under her weight, and she held her wounded skull in pain. "Oh…I'm not fine…"

"The ambulance is coming too, sweetie. They'll be here soon," Simon reassured, talking fast and loud. His panicking was making her headache worse. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the dried, crusty blood marring the black tresses. She brought her hands out of her hair and looked, the once tan skin now stained in dark blood.

"How long was I out?" she looked at her alarm clock. It was five-thirty. "Oh…_man_…"

Her TV was still on, displaying green letters spelling VIDEO at the top right corner of the screen. The annoying whiny pitch coming from the television was almost too much for her to handle. She stood up and stumbled over to the picture box, falling to her knees once reaching it and fingering around until her finger hit the power button, switching it off.

"I'm not sure," said Simon. He kneeled down next to her, "We need to get you to a hospital, sweetie. You have a concussion."

She shook him off. "I'm fine." She had been leaning against the television as leverage so she wouldn't fall. When she tried to shy away from Simon, her vision blurred and she slid off of the TV, nearly pulling it down on top of her when she hit the floor. Simon grabbed it held it in place so it wouldn't crush her.

Immediately she scrambled back up onto her hands and knees. The sounds of the approaching ambulance reached her, and she looked up. The sun was just peaking over the mountains. The new light burned her eyes and had her head throbbing painfully. She held her head and fell onto her back.

Quickly, the paramedics were in her room and surrounding her. One was checking her pulse and blood pressure while the other cleaned her head wound, wiping blood from her face and bandaging her head. Then the police came in, finished sweeping the area and coming up with absolutely nothing about the men that attacked her. They started asking her questions, and eventually came to the conclusion that Marceline had been struck with brass knuckles. It was around that time that she finally was able to remember the three men. Unfortunately, she didn't see their faces, so there was nothing useful she could tell the officers. Those guys were dressed like ninjas. They confiscated her broken guitar as evidence—there were tiny flecks of blood on it.

"Hopefully, it's the suspect's." said the sheriff, after Marceline told him exactly what she had used the guitar for. "We can identify one of them this way. After that it shouldn't be too much trouble to get him to rat out his friends."

She was taken to the hospital. As she brought into the ambulance, she saw Bonnibel and Uncle Peppy talking to Simon. They both seemed very cool in demeanor, though Bonnibel looked much more worried than Peppy. Simon stepped into the ambulance with her before they left.

The stay at the hospital wasn't very long. It was just to confirm what they already knew. Marceline had a concussion. No fractures or anything, just needed a few stitches. Not a very big deal. They gave her painkillers for it, which she dreaded because she never had a good reaction to them. When they returned home, all the glass Marceline had found on the ground the night before was swept clean. Not a shard left. Marceline felt glad because even with her head trauma, she would have been the one to eventually clean it because of Simon's ever growing incompetence, though he seemed to be doing fine at the moment.

Marceline lay in her bed, feeling queasy from her medication, and stared at the ceiling. Very soon, the throbbing pain of the stitches in her head dulled down to nothing. Her thoughts drifted many times, though she tried to remain focused on the ceiling, picking out random patterns out of the paneling to pass the time. The light shining through her window seemed to shift each time she blinked, each closing of her eyes bringing odd images of this morning's awful experience.

She even had visions of Jason McCreary. Though bleary and hard to make out, she knew it was him. Visions of a dark room with the stench of decay often startled her almost into sitting up in her bed, but she was either able to calm herself down or too weak from her medication to get very far.

Each time the visions would go, she would go back to picking out patterns on her ceiling. She didn't notice when her bedroom door opened; only when Bonnibel sat down on her bed.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said fondly, smiling.

She looked blearily up at the girl, not startled by her sudden appearance, "Oh…hey, Bonni," she drawled out. Bonnibel chuckled lightly at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm checking up on you," the younger girl replied, "Simon stepped out for a while and asked me to stay and watch you. I've been here for half an hour. You were asleep when I was last in here."

Marceline blinked. She fell asleep? That explains those weird visions; they were actually dreams. Oh, the joy of being doped up on pain medication.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Marceline rolled onto her side, hand cradling her head. "Not really…I feel really sick…how long have I been sleeping?"

"I don't know. You were awake when I got here, but you were pretty delirious." She giggled, "You're not one of those people who have good reactions to painkillers, are you? You were saying some pretty funny things."

Marceline sighed. "I…am glad I could entertain you so much."

Bonnibel kept giggling. Eventually she stopped, the look on her face slowly transforming from a giddy smile into a worried frown. "You…also said some weird stuff while you were sleeping." The tone of her voice was grim. "You kept talking about…_things_…and you kept calling for your mom, and Simon."

"I did?" Marceline pushed herself up, leaning back against the headboard to brace herself.

She nodded, "You kept complaining about the room smelling bad, too. I looked everywhere, but this place is pretty clean. I found this under your bed, by the way," she held up the game cartridge Marceline had accidentally flung under the bed last night. "Marceline, is everything okay? Are you, erm, bothered by anything?" It seemed like an awkward question for her to ask. How much had Marceline talked about while she was sleeping? While she was awake? How much did Bonnibel already know?

With her mouth pressed into a straight light, Marceline settled further back into her covers, glaring, "I don't want to talk about it."

Grimacing, Bonnibel looked away from Marceline, as if ashamed of herself for asking such a question. "I'm sorry; it was rude of me to pry. You just…seemed so restless while you were sleeping."

"It's okay." Marceline sank back down into her pillow, "What time is it?"

The younger girl glanced over at the clock, "It's six-thirty in the evening. Do you want anything to eat?"

"Not sure if I can stomach anything." Marceline answered truthfully. "Don't think I can get up, even. I'm so tired."

"Go back to sleep, then."

Marceline grimaced. _No, no more sleep_, she thought and groaned loudly. "I don't want to," The nightmares. Even during the day, they haunted her, and now she had a new trauma to contend with. "I don't want to sleep anymore. Talk to me. Keep me awake."

The way her voice sounded mustn't have been very good, because there was a worried look on Bonnibel's face. Nervously, she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, "What should I talk about?"

"I don't know…" Marceline strained and craned her neck forward, "Have any hobbies?"

Instantly Bonnibel's face brightened, as if Marceline had hit some kind of switch and made the mood instantly better. "Oh! Well, I like to study chemistry and biology, and I like solving complex math equations and—"

Marceline abruptly broke into a fit of laughter, and Bonnibel stopped and looked at her, looking slightly offended, "Sheesh! What kind of kid are you?" Marceline said, turning onto her side again. "Who does all that in their _free time_? Haven't you ever heard of _videogames_?"

Bonnibel blew air through pursed lips, her cheeks puffing out, "I'm sorry if my interests aren't the same as yours, Marceline." There was a small smile on her face though. Where it came from, Marceline couldn't be sure, and she didn't dwell on it.

For a while longer, they talked. Marceline allowed Bonnibel to finish talking about the other hobbies she had, none of them sounding at all fun to the dark-skinned girl. But still she listened, captivated by what the girl was saying although she'd have no interest if it were anyone else talking about it. They talked about other things, expertly avoiding all conversations regarding the break in and anything involving what Marceline had said while delirious. All the while, it kept Marceline from falling asleep at least for a little while. Eventually though, after she had taken more of her medicine, she began to nod off again. It was midnight when she woke again, and Bonnibel had gone.

It had been a dreamless sleep though. The first one she had had in a long while. Marceline actually felt a bit rested, but she was sad that Bonnibel had gone, though the girl lived just next door.

A few days later, Marceline was finally going through the boxes to unpack what the robbers hadn't taken. She was very surprised that all the jewelry and other valuables had remained untouched in the raid. She didn't think much about it though as she put things in their proper place, feeling a bit saddened that her mother's precious dinnerware had been shattered by the brutes.

Finally, she got to the books. She brought the entire box over to the bookcase, and put everything away and kept as organized as she could. At around that time, Bonnibel came over and decided she wanted to help.

"Where's Simon?" Bonnibel asked, picking up an old war book with a green mushroom cloud on the cover. She placed it with the other war books, and reached for another.

"Eh, I dunno. Somewhere. Where's your uncle?"

"He's gone too."

"They've been gone a lot lately, haven't they?"

"Yeah…"

"Eh, adults, huh?"

"I guess. But Uncle Peppy hasn't really been out of the house this often before. Has Simon ever gone out when you were back in the city?"

Marceline shrugged. Looking down into the box and finding it empty, her jaw set, teeth grinding together slightly, she bent down and looked in, reaching her hand down and feeling all around the box as if there were an invisible book inside, hiding from her.

"Is something wrong?" Bonnibel asked, "What are you looking for?"

Marceline went to scratch her head, but paused as her fingertips brushed over her stitches. _Damn brute,_ she growled, "I dunno…there's supposed to be another book in here. I can't find it."

"What is it? I can help you look. Maybe you misplaced it."

She shook her head, "No, I shouldn't have. I made sure I put it at the bottom of this box before we left the city." Marceline flipped the box upside down and started shaking it, like that would help. "Where is it?!"

"Where's what?" Bonnibel said, irritated now, "Marceline, what are you looking for?"

"My diary!" she shouted, chucking the box aside, "My diary's gone!"


End file.
